x " / Face-mounted photographic print framed/unframed
What is it that draws people from all across the world to pack up, leave all that is known behind and try to make a life for themselves in the American West? So many of those hopeful stories never reach a happy end. But is it even about that? Or is it more about the journey itself, to be daring, to be okay with the prospect of failure, to give in to the elements â€” to acknowledge that we are but a small leaf blowing in the wind, at the grace of Mother Nature?
Living with and on the captivating but oft-times unforgiving lands of the American West has always been a story of how to deal with failure. Not the personal kind, necessarily, but a concession that we ultimately do not have control in the large scheme of things. Even the best plan is only that. I have found, or at least Iâ€™d like to believe, that those who come here to put their love of the land above some desire to maximize personal comfort have accepted that kind of failure as part of their every day, to be routinely outweighed by all the place is offering in return, and are ultimately leading happier lives for it â€” in the moment, with little worry about how the story will ultimately end.